


The Red Moon Illuminates both Love and Hate

by LooneyLlama



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 新ムーミン | Shin Moomin (Anime 1972)
Genre: M/M, Tfw your dad realizes you're gay for your best friend before you do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27806974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LooneyLlama/pseuds/LooneyLlama
Summary: The eclipse may not have brought a curse, but it certainly shown some light on certain feelings and attitudes, both good and bad.  A chapter of Moominpappa's Memoirs detailing the events of the eclipse, and the trouble afterward.A retelling of the Shin Moomin episode, "Curse of the Red Moon," from Pappa's perspective.  This episode was translated at one point, but unfortunately the video's been deleted by its owner.  Fortunately, I transcribed like half of it here lol
Relationships: Muminmamman | Moominmamma/Muminpappan | Moominpappa, Muminpappan | Moominpappa & Mumintrollet | Moomintroll, Muminpappan | Moominpappa & Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	The Red Moon Illuminates both Love and Hate

Moominpappa’s Memoirs

August 4th

Tonight, for the first time in fifty years, a lunar eclipse will occur in Moominvalley. Little by little, the moon’s beautiful light will go out, plunging us into a void of pitch-black darkness. However, the shivers crawling up our spines have little to do with the eclipse itself. As I explained to my son, a certain legend has been passed down in Moominvalley since ancient times: it is told that a lunar eclipse heralds the arrival of blood-sucking vampire bats! A bite from one of the ghastly creatures results in a hideous transformation, turning the unfortunate victim into a vampire themself! 

“But is it really true,” my son inquired. “The whole turning-into-a-vampire thing?”

“Moomin, there are things in this world that logic and reason cannot explain. That’s why, even if there’s no solid scientific evidence for something, it shouldn’t be regarded as a complete lie.” 

I saw my boy consider this wisdom, a wide-eyed look on his face. Even under the tense circumstances, the sight made me proud. The greatest joy in my life has been imparting my knowledge of the world onto my dear sweet son. He’s still quite young and rather naïve, but with myself as his guide, I am confident that Moomin will grow up to be as brave and wise a troll as his father. 

I must break away from my musings for now. The eclipse is upon us. 

———————

August 7th

I must apologize for neglecting my memoirs. Usually, even under the most dire of circumstances, I wouldn’t fail in my duty to record the events of my exciting life for posterity. These last few days have been harrowing, however, and not in a way I could have anticipated. 

The morning after the eclipse, Moominvalley’s police inspector gathered us townsfolk to conduct a search for any remaining bats. My family and I donned our protective gear and spent the day scouring the countryside, but found nothing. Our friends and neighbors also came up empty-handed. Just when we thought our village was safe, that the bats were gone, Snork ran fanatically into the clearing. 

“Everyone, we’ve got trouble! Big trouble! The crime of the century, if I may say!” He stood tall in the center of the crowd and announced, “I have exposed a dastardly villain who’s been hiding a bat!” 

The police inspector gasped. “What? Who in the world could the evildoer be?” 

“Oh, just saying it makes me feel like dying of shame. It’s Snufkin!” 

While I am loath to interrupt the flow of my story, it occurs to me that I’ve written very little about this particular character in my memoirs. For the sake of my future audience, I feel obligated to provide a quick introduction now: Snufkin is our local vagabond. He’s surprisingly worldly for one so young, but his quiet nature and penchant for solitude make him a difficult person to approach. Thus, the oversight is simply because I don’t know much about him. Moomin, however, considers Snufkin his closest friend, and I could plainly see the shock and dismay on his face at Snork’s declaration. 

“That’s a lie! It has to be!” Moomin shouted. 

“Good Lord, Moomin, don’t be absurd!” Snork said dismissively. He turned to the townsfolk. “What we need to do now, obviously, is kill the bat and arrest Snufkin.” 

As the crowd began to clamor, Moomin dashed off in the direction of his friend’s campsite. Without any hesitation, I decided to follow. As much as I admire my son’s sense of loyalty, I worried at the time that it might be misplaced. Unfortunately, my muscular frame tends to make me less light on my feet; by the time I caught up to Moomin, Snork and the police inspector had already arrived at Snufkin’s tent. 

“Hello everyone. What brings you all here?” The vagabond greeted us politely. To my horror, he had a sleeping bat cradled in his arms. Next to him, Moomin’s face was the very picture of despair. 

“Quit fooling around and hand over the bat right now,” the police inspector blustered. “If you comply, I’ll let you off the hook.” 

“Of course I don’t plan on keeping it, but the thing is, it’s hurt. When it’s healthy again, I’ll let it go for sure.” 

Snork looked pale at the sight of the little bloodsucker. “Wha-what is this poppycock? Don’t you know the legend?!” 

“Of course I do,” Snufkin calmly replied. “But I don’t believe in such superstitions.” 

With that, he returned to his tent and closed the flap, saying, “I would like to be left alone for the evening now.” 

His brazen attitude left even me speechless. Snork was the first to find his voice. 

“Preposterous! Why aren’t you arresting him, inspector?” He demanded. 

The inspector reluctantly stepped forward. “Listen up, Snufkin. I’ll give you one day. A police officer’s job isn’t just to hunt down people for fun, y’know. I’m giving you a chance to make the right decision.” 

With that declaration, he walked away, followed by Snork. After a glance at Moomin’s face, I decided it would be best to give the boy some privacy, and headed home myself. 

That night, both Moominmamma and I laid awake for some time, lost in thought. 

“Pappa, what do you think we should say to comfort poor Moomin?” 

“I’ve been thinking about the same thing,” I sighed. When Moomin finally returned home that night, he had been crying. The quiet sound of his sobs hit both Moominmamma and myself like a knife in the heart. 

“We can’t say for sure that the vampire bat legend is a lie, and Snufkin is in serious trouble...” 

“Oh, that Snufkin,” I muttered. “But Mamma, for Moomin’s sake, we have to find a way to clear his name.” 

In the morning, we tried our best to cheer our boy up; Mamma had made his favorite breakfast, and I offered him our tastiest jam. In retrospect, it seems pathetic. Moomin isn’t a toddler anymore, and all the sweets in the world wouldn’t be able to distract him from the loss of his best friend. 

Our sad attempts at helping Moomin were interrupted by the arrival of the snork. 

“I hate to disturb you, but I have something to request of Moominmamma and Moominpappa.” He unfurled a piece of paper. “I would like you to sign my petition. You see, I’m collecting the signatures of people who agree to have Snufkin banished from our village.” 

I heard Moomin choke on his breakfast, and decided to intervene before he could start another argument. 

“Wait, Snork. You mean you really believe this tall tale?” 

“Of course not, but still: our ancestors passed this legend down in order to protect us from danger! You could even call it a rule of our society.” Snork looked me in the eye and said severely, “do you really think people who refuse to follow our social conventions have the right to live here?” 

As I record my thoughts at this juncture, I feel both pride and shame. In a way, Snork was right; Snufkin clearly and consciously defied our village’s rules by harboring a bat. Even if the bat was harmless, Snufkin had still broken the law. Yet, something about Snork’s comment made me uncomfortable. To consider a person’s right to live peacefully in our village conditional, dependent upon how well they fit in with the rest of the town, just seemed cruel. I resolved then and there to defend Snufkin, whether the bat was vampiric or not. 

“There might be a grain of truth in your opinion. But you see, Snork, before I sign your petition, I need to find out the extent to which your words are true. If this legend is indeed a lie, I could end up accusing an innocent person,” I stated eloquently. 

“What in the world makes you think that could be possible?” Snork asked incredulously. 

“We won’t know for sure until we try.” 

As I spoke, I felt a pang of guilt in my chest. After all, if the issue hadn’t been made so personal to me—if Moomin didn’t care so much about Snufkin—would I have bothered to stand up for the vagabond? Even with my strong moral principles, would I have cared enough to act for his sake? As much as it pains me to admit it, I really don’t know. 

In the moment, however, I managed to put my “what-ifs” aside, and my son and I sprang into action. Moomin ran from door to door, trying to convince our neighbors not to sign the Snork’s petition. Meanwhile, I got to work researching the lunar eclipse legend. 

A little over an hour later, Moomin came trudging back. “It was no good. Just about everybody already signed that petition.” 

“Nothing on my end either,” I admitted. 

“At this rate, Snufkin will be exiled from the village!” 

I pondered our dilemma. “What to do, indeed...” 

“We don’t have to prove the legend itself wrong,” Moomin thought aloud. “All we have to do is prove to everyone that Snufkin’s bat isn’t a vampire.” 

“That is indeed true, but how exactly are you planning to find out?” 

At that moment, Moominmamma called out from downstairs. “Moomin, the inspector would like to have a word with you!” 

Sharing a nervous look, my son and I headed to the kitchen to face the policeman. 

“Moomin, have you seen Snufkin anywhere?” he asked. 

“No. Has something happened?”

The inspector dropped his gaze. “It seems the lad has left the valley for parts unknown.” 

“What?!” Moomin exclaimed. “No! Snufkin can’t just leave!” 

He dashed outside, almost knocking me over in his haste. After a quick glance at Moominmamma’s worried face, I decided to run after him, followed by the police inspector. We found Moomin on his knees in front of a square of dead grass, all that remained of Snufkin’s campsite. 

“Why?” Moomin whispered. “Why did you just leave without saying anything, Snufkin?” 

Even without seeing his face, I could tell that my son was about to cry. I had never felt so useless in my life; when Moomin was younger, it had seemed to easy to bring a smile to his sweet little face, and now I couldn’t even begin to dry his tears. 

Suddenly, we were interrupted by a yipping noise. The children’s little dog, Sorry-oo, was pointing into the distance and barking. Moomin’s sorrowful expression suddenly changed to hope, and before I could react, he had leapt to his feet and was running after the dog. The police inspector and I stood in silence for a moment, too stunned to act. 

I cleared my throat. “Do you think we should, er, go after him?” 

“Under any other circumstances, I would want to let the boys have their privacy. But if Snufkin still has that vampire bat with him, there could be trouble.” 

I nodded, and we took off. It took all my energy just to keep the fuzzy white figure of my son within sight, and neither the inspector nor myself were able to follow exactly in his footsteps; we took the lower mountain path instead, hoping to meet up with Moomin at the pass. 

“Snufkiiiin!” I heard Moomin shout up ahead. Then came a sickening series of crashes, accompanied by my son crying out in pain, and Snufkin yelling his name. Heart pounding, I mustered up all my strength and sprinted into the mountain pass. 

And there they were. Snufkin stood in the middle of the path, guitar in one hand and bat in the other, with a pair of white paws were wrapped around his waist. Moomin’s face, which barely peeked out from behind the other boy’s dress, was covered in dirt and scratches. 

“Snufkin, don’t go,” he sobbed. “Please, I’m begging you!” 

Faintly, I heard Snufkin’s choked reply. “Please forgive me, Mumi. I was afraid that if I said goodbye to you, I would no longer have the guts to leave. I’ll never forget you. Never!” 

“No! This can’t be goodbye forever!” 

Even as I watched the boys, my writer’s brain was hard at work, and it occurred to me that the scene was more akin to a tragic separation of two lovers than a parting of ways between friends. Feeling guilty about being privy to such an intimate moment, I directed my gaze away. The inspector, clearly feeling awkward as well, was staring at his feet. 

In hindsight, we probably should have kept a closer eye on what was happening, considering that Snufkin was still holding a bloodsucking, possibly vampiric bat. I caught a blur of movement out of the corner of my eye, and looked back to the boys. To my horror, Moomin had jammed his finger into the bat’s mouth! Sorry-oo yipped in fright and hid behind my legs. The inspector and I gaped helplessly as we watched the tiny parasite suck down my son’s warm blood, making him flinch with pain. Despite all my years of experience writing, I cannot find the words to describe how I felt in that moment. Was my darling child, the boy I had raised so tenderly for all these years, really about to become a monster? 

Ever so gently, Snufkin made the bat release its tiny fangs from Moomin’s flesh, and drew the other boy’s hand out of its mouth. Even from a distance, I could see the blood oozing from Moomin’s wound, staining his cotton-white fur. I wish I could say that I rushed over to help my son, but I was still paralyzed with horror. It was Snufkin who ripped a piece of cloth with his teeth and tenderly bandaged Moomin’s finger. 

“Does it hurt, Mumi?” 

“Nope,” Moomin replied, a sweet smile on his face. Sorry-oo was the first to react, bounding up to the boy and licking him on the snout. The inspector and I quickly followed. 

“Are you really ok, Moomin?” asked the policeman. Even as he posed the question, however, I could see from my son’s innocently smiling face that he was perfectly fine. 

“To think that you’d actually go so far for him...” I whispered in awe. Moomin gave me a confused glance. For him, I suppose, loving the quiet, stoic, mysterious vagabond is the easiest thing in the world. 

I turned to the person in question. “Snufkin, you’ll return to Moominvalley, won’t you?” 

“Of course he will” the inspector cut in. “Now come on, let’s get off this miserable mountain.” 

“Hooray!” Moomin cheered, skipping down the path. “Snufkin! Hurry up and come along!” 

Snufkin didn’t say a word in reply. He trailed behind the rest of us with his head down and his hat over his eyes. I felt a bit irritated on Moomin’s behalf; didn’t he appreciate what my son had done for him? I almost spoke up, but then a ray of the fading sunlight made something sparkle on Snufkin’s cheek. 

A tear. The boy was crying. 

My fatherly instincts made me want to wrap him up in a hug, but I knew it probably wouldn’t be welcomed—at least, not from me. Instead, I cleared my throat. 

“Moomin, if you like, you can stay up a little later tonight and help Snufkin get settled in.” 

My son whooped with joy. “Come on, Snufkin, let’s go set up your tent by the river again! And you can play your guitar, too!” 

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as Moomin ran off toward the river with Snufkin following close behind; if the vagabond needed any comfort, I was confident my boy could handle it. 

As I sit here at my desk and read over what I’ve written, with Moomin asleep upstairs and his beloved Snufkin back in his tent by the river, it occurs to me that fatherhood isn’t only about passing down one’s own knowledge. My time with Moomin has made me realize how narrow my own gaze could be. It’s humbling to discover that one isn’t always as wise and worldly as they would like to think, but the experience has forced me to broaden my horizons, and I should like to think that I’ve become a better person as a result. 

My dear son, if you’re reading this, I want to thank you for teaching me to be kind. 


End file.
